PUKE I

First Grade. I'm 6 years old. My best friend is Melissa. She's fat. Not disgusting. But the fattest person in our class. No matter, Melissa is hilarious. We have fun together. So it's the day after we get back from Christmas break. And everyone is parading around in their new clothes, looking and feeling sexy. I'm wearing this hot pink and purple number with cats on the sweater. My parents would never buy a sweater this sweet. It was from their friends Ralph and Amy. They know what's cool. Not anymore though. Ralph just got out of jail and Amy left their daughter with her new husband to go get a job in another city. Life sucks.
So it's lunch time and there's just enough room for all the girls in our class to sit at one table except for two. Guess who the two girls are who sit at a big long table by themselves.
Me and Melissa. Fuck 'em. We're having a better, bosser party over here.
Melissa's been whining about a stomach ache but I keep babbling on about my holiday.
Suddenly, out of fucking nowhere, she barfs like a gallon of puke onto her tray, drowning her food in this viscous brown upchuck. And here's the funny part: she pukes straight down onto her tray, looks up at me with coffee colored dribble sliding down her chin and says: "Caitlin I barfed!".
I guess little kids don't know what to say in that circumstance. Like, obviously you barfed.
And here's my disgusting, self-centered answer to my best friend: "Don't get it on ME!".
Ugghh. I have so many regrets in my life. And this is one of them. Being sick when you're young is like dying. It's unbearable. I didn't help at all. She ran to the garbage can with her tray and threw the whole thing away. And ran to the nurse, after asking an "aid" if it was alright.
And all I could think about was my new sweater, and how I didn't want any puke on it.

Now in 5th grade, I had a friend Erin. And I used to pee my pants a lot. From laughing too hard. I still do. I've laugh-peed as recently as 2008. It's a thing. And it's better than shitting the bed. Erin used to make me laugh so hard. A kid with pee stains is not ever going to live that down. Backing out of the room can only be used once or twice. So Erin would give me her sweatshirt to tie around my waist so no one would see the pee. Isn't that the nicest gesture? Even nicer was: I would give it back to her at the end of the day, with MY pee on it, and she would wash it. Or her dad would, rather. That's a good friend.
That's a GOOD friend.

Boycott This

Let's talk about Erik Petersen. At one point in Oswego, everyone was listening to Bellingham & Philadelphia. Those songs are just like "have sing-alongs of us!" and the kids said "OK!". And Erik packs so many ideas and words into a single song I not only wish I'd written every one of them, but had that shit memorized after a week. And how cool was it, when he came to our little town and played in our party house? That was the best day. I'd also seen Billy Idol the night
before, so actually that whole weekend ruled. Erik at 189! It seemed a little weird because he was such a superstar to us, but he was just doing his thing.
It's also hilarious that Shantz is on Wikipedia. Through Mischief Brew, of course. I liked that guy. And that Falyn of his.
So I was stoked about seeing Erik play in his home town. Philadelphia. City of Brotherly Love, City of the Police. Robert Blake's pretty ok. If that split were My So Called Life, Robert would be Angela and Erik would be Rayanne. Both are great, but Rayanne is also up to something, always has another idea, ready to get into some trouble. And if I were in that TV show I'd be Brian Krakow, the hideous neighbor, because I'm a tool and I have a blog.

So at the show there's all these little kids everywhere. Really young. And loving it. And singing all through. I couldn't be bothered to get in the middle of the dancing. I felt outdated and lame. And then they cried for an encore. And got one! Except it was an old Orphans song and the kids didn't know it! Caito-time to shine you old piece of shit! I may have got up on a chair and sang it loud and proud. But I was kind of miffed by the crowd. I just thought every punk and their punk girlfriend loved his music. And it was weird not to see people freaking out in his hometown.

Since this was an all ages show, all the punks were kicked out at 9:00. And then the REAL party started. While all those suckers biked home and worked on zines while their boyfriends re-heated the crock pot for another bowl of vegetarian chili, I stayed for the MichaelMaddonnaPrince party hosted by Dj Dee Jay!!
Me and Katsop don't take ourselves too seriously. I'm listening to Anti-Product right now. I forgot how good it is.
I'm actually listening Toni Braxton. God, Katsop comes out here in her Hugh Hefner bathrobe and is crunching a pickle REALLY LOUDLY.

I'm TRYING TO WRITE.

And if this were My So Called Life, Katsop would be Erik Petersen and I would be Brian Krakow because I have a blog.

Valentine's Day

Valentine's Day is like the day when single people get sad about not having anyone in their life who loves them. And it's just so the industry can sell lots of shit blah blah blah. But just because you're not in a relationship doesn't mean people don't love you. And maybe someone is in love with you, but you don't think that counts because you don't love them back.

What about remembering the love that is in your life. Your cat. Your parents. Your tight friends. Your loosely affiliated friends probably love you. Or at least like you. Which is nice.


This Valentine's card from Chosen reminds me that he is still the love in my life, even if he's not a part of it anymore. There's a lot of people I don't see ever, but I still love them.





My coupons expired.

Betrayal II

So I grow up a little and I'm 10 years old! 10! The best!
I've somehow made friends with a girl Mackenzie, who was in my girl scout troop, but way cooler at school. And by some coolness god, I am invited by Mackenzie to her house after school. The house is literally within view of the school.
Eating gushers for snack--- OMFG!



So we take a walk to the woods nearby (is "woods" too hick?). Fine. We traverse the FOREST nearby where the family has built the mother of all forts. I mean, there were three tiers on this thing. It was like the fort from Jack starring Robin Williams. Also starring Fran Drescher, Jennifer Lopez, Bill Cosby and Diane Lane. What a line-up!
"You got the zactly disease"
"What?"
"It's where your mouth smells zactly like your butt!"

And the lead kid in that film --God! Adam Zolotin was a CLOSE second to Yeah Yeah from The Sandlot in my heart. I would have done anything to have them as boyfriends.
Ok I just imdb-ed them both and Marty "Yeah Yeah" York is still superior. Shit. They are both fine!

I also signed a Marty York fan page guest book.

So Mackenzie's treehouse. Is huge. And different colors.
We are hanging out and having so much fun that we both have to pee but can't break the fun spell by going back to the house. She tells me to pee off the side of the fort.
So here's what I do: I stand up and try to piss frontways, like a man, off this thing, which is very tall. And most of my piss is still in the treehouse in a puddle in front of me. And don't I look over and see Mackenzie, with her butt hanging off the side and peeing, DOWN, like a toilet. And doesn't her OLDER BROTHER walk up minutes later to which Mackenzie yells to him that I pee standing up and that I've peed all over their wicked boss treehouse.
Way to have my back, bitch!
Fast forward 10 years.
Phrank Martian will tell you that the my most sexy moment was peeing on a fire at the lake, standing up and facing forward. So, my first go at it wasn't a success, but I can put fires out whilst lisfting the old skirt now, Mackenzie.

Betrayal!

My parents have a cottage on a lake in Pennsylvania. My mom saved all her vacation time to spend at the cottage in the summer. There was a girl, Amy, who lived on the lake all year round. We had these plastic horns that we got at a parade and we'd blow them towards the other person's house when ever we wanted to hang out.
So I'd be crafting away in the loft or something and my mom would say "I think I hear the horn!". And I'd run like hell out onto the deck with my horn and blow back. HOOOOONKK! And then I'd ask Dot if he'd take me over there. I guess the road wasn't safe. So I'd get my swimsuit, if I wasn't already in it, get in the boat and head over.
Now Amy is that type of friend who knows way more than you because they have an older sibling and a somewhat broken home. Amy is that friend who tells me about sex when I honestly never even knew that it existed. Which, at that age, Amy described to me as lots of hugging and kissing. She'd seen her parents do this, she says. Our code word for sex was "dinner table". So when we were playing House we would talk about "setting the dinner table" with our husbands.
Her brother, nicknamed Kirby (if that gives you a time frame), played guitar, had an iguana in his room and listened to a loud band called Nirvana.
So I learned the ways of the world for several summers through Amy. One day, I was over and her parents weren't actually there. Kirby was supposed to be watching us. And this time Amy had another friend from school over. Amy and her friend told me there were these three leaves that they wanted me to step on: "we promise there's nothing underneath them". So we took a walk and I stepped on them. Because they told me to. And there was a dead rat underneath the leaves. Which was scary and revolting. And I cried and started to run to the cottage. And Amy yells after me "My brother's gonna get you in trouble!".
I never knew betrayal before!

My Name Will Be Mom

I saw this old couple at the store in their late sixties. And the husband paid for their stuff on his credit card. And the woman says "Thanks, Daddy". Someday the love of your life is not going to call you by your name anymore. They're going to call you Mom because everyone else is. Meaning everyone else you live with.
My mom calls her husband "Dot". Once when I was little I talked in an English accent and would say "Mummy and Dotty". And the Dot part stuck. Still. Hank got a new name when he was 45. He calls me Caito. Which I've only been for three years. But I'm so not Caitlin anymore.

Hank was Saint Patrick in the Binghamton Parade last year. And he's neither Irish nor Catholic. He was drunk though. Which is pretty close.